Duke.
No; holy father, throw away that thought,
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can pierce a compleat breast: why I desire thee
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.

Fri.
May your Grace speak of it?

Duke.
My holy Sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd;
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies,
Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.
I have deliver'd to lord Angelo
(A man of stricture and firm abstinence)
My absolute pow'r and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
For so I've strew'd it in the common ear,
And so it is receiv'd: now, pious Sir,
You will demand of me, why I do this?

Fri.
Gladly, my lord.

Duke.
We have strict statutes and most biting laws,
The needful bits and curbs for head-strong weeds,
Which for this fourteen years we have let slip,
Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave
That goes not out to prey; now, as fond fathers
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,
Only to stick it in their childrens sight,
For terror, not to use; in time the rod
Becomes more mock'd than fear'd: so our decrees,
Dead to infliction to themselves are dead,
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.

Fri.
It rested in your Grace
T' unloose this ty'd-up justice, when you pleas'd:
And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
Than in lord Angelo.

Duke.
I fear, too dreadful.
Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,
'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them
For what I bid them do. For we bid this
When evil deeds have their permissive pass,
And not the punishment. Therefore, my father,
I have on Angelo impos'd the office:
Who may in th' ambush of my name strike home,
And yet, my nature never in the sight
To do in slander: To behold his sway,
I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,
Visit both Prince and people; therefore pr'ythee
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally my person bear
Like a true Friar. More reasons for this action,

At your more leisure shall I render you;
Only this one: lord Angelo is precise,
Stands at a guard with envy, scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,
If pow'r change purpose, what our seemers be. [Exeunt.

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